I wake up to the excruciating sensation of shards of glass stabbing at my eyeballs, then the headache kicks in, slamming at my temples like a battering ram. My brain pounds relentlessly in my skull and I wince as it embeds in my eye sockets. I swallow and groan. I'm never drinking again. I smack my lips together and press my dry tongue to my palate. What the hell happened last night?
Alcohol.
Clubs.
Puking.
I roll off my bed and lift my heavy body on my tired legs. My knees waver under the pressure, but they don't give out. I've never felt so weak. Exhaling, I straighten my posture, and my stomach quivers. I feel like death, like I should climb back in bed and sleep until next week, but I don't. I need to find Selena. I hobble to the door and unhang my robe from the back of it. Slipping into it, I fasten the belt around my waist and make my way to the kitchen.